Once More
by practicingproductivity
Summary: Second chances don't always come in the ways we hope or expect them to. Sometimes only the ultimate sacrifice can grant one. Yatone Week 2k16, Day 4. Sequel to Day 1 entry.


**A/N:** This is my entry for Yatone Week 2016 Day 4. It is a direct continuation of my Day 1 entry, _Just Out of Reach_. The prompts were Sacrifice and Past. I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is greatly appreciated! ( **SPOILER WARNING:** This fic contains spoilers from the **manga**. So be forewarned anime-only readers.)

 **!CW** for domestic abuse mention.

-o-o-o-o-o-

 **continued from my entry on day 1**

The cold air bit the tips of Yato's nose and ears as he ran. Behind him, he could hear Hiyori's ragged breath and her loafers smacking the pavement beneath them, and behind her the elephant footfalls of a gigantic ayakashi. He ran without direction. The odds that they'd be able to somehow outrun the ayakashi to safety were negligible, and he was beginning to wonder if letting Hiyori fight it would have been such a bad idea after all.

He could try to find a shrine. But he wasn't exactly on the best of terms with most gods. His best bet was probably Tenjin. Out of all the others he knew that might have a shrine nearby, he seemed to tolerate Yato the most. But he wasn't sure if Tenjin even fought ayakashi, and though Tenjin had more or less overlooked Yato crashing at his shrines without permission until now, he probably wouldn't be able to get away with it again after this. And then he'd just be fodder for ayakashi without a shrine for protection. He didn't even consider Kofuku. In all likelihood, she would probably open a vent and they'd be swarmed by even more phantoms. He needed a shinki.

Yato reached out with all his senses for any sign of a wandering spirit. Over the pulse thumping in his eardrums and his own footsteps, over the ayakashi's broken speech, there was the screech of rubber on pavement somewhere not too far ahead of them. The sound of impact – body against bumper. A scream.

It was a sick hope, Yato knew, but it was also their best hope. That someone would be dead from the accident. That Yato would have a shinki that could defeat the monster tailing them. So he changed course, leaping onto the rooftops to get a better view. Hiyori followed him without a word about it. She probably didn't hear it, was too focused on trying to escape.

"Is there really nothing you can do?" Hiyori asked.

"I already told you, I can't do anything without a shinki," Yato replied, jumping from one roof to the next. His eyes scanned the streets below.

And then he saw it to his left. A soul, too fresh to have taken form. It was still just a ball of light. It drifted along the street. So they had been running back the way he'd came, Yato thought, recognizing the red post box beneath the street lamp. The little soul hovered around the mail slot, as if it were peering in, _making sure it had sent that letter_ , Yato realized. And he felt his heart sink and his stomach twist into a knot, wringing out grief into his very bones for a boy he'd only met once. He was so young. Probably barely in his teens from the way he looked when Yato met him.

"There's one. What a troublesome age," Yato said, more to himself than Hiyori. "But I can't afford to be picky."

After the spirit was named and the ayakashi had been slain, Yato laid on his back in the middle of the street and threw an arm over his eyes. He didn't want Hiyori or Yukine to see the tears he shed as he witnessed the blond boy's final moments, and all the moments that led up to his death in a matter of seconds.

Yato couldn't help himself from feeling that he'd failed. He could have convinced the boy to accept his help. Then he'd know about the kid's abusive father. If only he'd had a shinki. Maybe Yato could have found his dad and stopped him from having those drinks. From getting behind the wheel, intent on teaching his runaway son a lesson.

Yato shivered, numbed by shame and self-loathing. Bile rising in his stomach as he grew sick remembering his hatred for his own "father." How he had left that life behind, sacrificing his only connections to be the better person Sakura had seen in him.

Yukine's sacrifice had been too great. His very life for a second chance. The only second chances given in death were given by gods, and Yato was determined to give Yukine his, no matter how much pain he might suffer because of it.

-o-o-o-o-o-

 _Dear Akira-san,_

 _Hopefully this letter will reach you before I do, so it's not a surprise when I show up at your doorstep. I can't live this way anymore, even though I worry it is selfish of me to leave without saying anything. I think my mom will understand. I hope she does. I hope she finds the strength to leave too._

 _I wanted to call you, but I can't use the phone at home without him overhearing. He hasn't left the house since he was laid off from work. And I don't have change for a pay phone. I should have asked you for your e-mail address._

 _I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared he'll still find me. I put this letter in a box several blocks away. I went through his wallet while he was in the shower, so I should have enough money for bus and train fare, but because I have to walk all the way to the station on foot I may not reach you for a couple of days, as of sending this letter._

 _I look forward to meeting you in person. I wish it could have been under better circumstances._

 _I am in your care,_


End file.
